Weep Little Lion Man
by MissZatanna
Summary: The last thing he could have ever thought of was being shipped out here to California, staking out minuscule drug dealers, and working undercover for a major drug lord in one of the biggest leading cartels in the country. The FBI manual didn't exactly cover what to do in this situation.


**A/N: so I've been completely hooked on Graceland. (Mostly because Aaron Tveit, I mean really, who wouldn't want to look at that face as much as possible?) I'm obsessed. I finished the two seasons in five days. It's ridiculous. And I'm a huge Paige/Mike fan (formally known as "Pike") so here's drabble I came up with at like 12:30 am while I had no wifi. **

**I also have an Enjonine Drabble in the process, which has been sitting in my drafts for a long time... I think I ran out of Enjonine fics to read ._. Do you guys know any good ones? I'm open to anything and I'd really love to find some more!**

**Anyway ignore me, and I hope you guys like it! Review if you can pleeaasee(:**

"How do you do it?"

Paige couldn't misplace the sliver of guilt laced in her teammate's tone. Upon ending his call with Abby, telling her he had to rest up for an early flight in the morning—"a pilot can't fall asleep at the control, now can he?"—the newbie FBI agent returned to the dank motel room and sat on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands in his hair.

The agent's initial commitment had been what piqued Paige's interest; that and how innocent and naive he was as an a brand new undercover agent. His bravado, his eagerness to jump right into the field (however idiotic the situation might be), was what she hadn't seen in an agent in years. Not since Briggs changed. But now the fearless Michael Warren looked different. For a moment, sitting in front of her, he looked small.

A silence overcame the temporary residence. He and Paige were keeping tabs on some no name dealer, just a speed bump on the highway to Bello. Stakeouts weren't Paige's type of thing but when you get an order, you follow it. The state of ennui was slowly getting at her.

She glanced at the agent, stilling in her movements to get ready for bed for a brief second before continuing with taking off her watch and makeup. He just didn't understand yet. "It'll get easier," she said quietly. The words were reassuring in the worst of ways.

This wasn't what he signed up for. He wanted to work in DC, become the director of the FBI; he wanted to be _glorious. _The last thing he could have ever thought of was being shipped out here to California, staking out miniscule drug dealers, and working undercover for a major drug lord in one of the biggest leading cartels in the country. He didn't think he'd be in charge of ratting out one of his teammates, using him to climb the employment ladder. The FBI manual didn't exactly cover what to do in this situation.

And the lies only made it worse. The snowball effect had taken over his life and one lie led to another and then another, and would continue growing until the day he died. He didn't want this. He didn't want it to get easier, he wanted it to all stop. His lying to Briggs, Abby, his family, it all needed to end. Hell, he was even lying to himself.

"What did you tell your parents?" he asked.

Paige hesitated before busying herself with checking all of their equipment. If she didn't keep busy, her mind would have time to think about how screwed up this actually was. "I work in communications at the Pentagon. All desk work and no chance of harm ever to come to their little girl." As an unconscious after note, she mumbled, "they write me sometimes."

Mike answered with his own excuse, knowing she hadn't asked, but feeling obligated to share. "I told them I'm doing surveillance work somewhere in Nevada. They'll call every once in a while and ask about the weather. I have to actually pull up the weather app on my phone to check what is happening over there and what I'm supposed to be saying." He ended with a small chuckle, shaking his head while looking down at his hands in his lap. He resembled a child, confused and lost.

The DEA agent remained silent until she ran out of things to check. She moved to her duffel bag sitting on the double bed closest to the wall and rummaged through it for her oversized, worn out Shirley Temple t-shirt. Without hesitation she pulled down her jeans by the belt loops and proceeded to raise her shirt over her head by the hem, leaving her clad only in her underwear.

Thankfully, she decided to face away from Mike whose cheeks burned red at the sight. He quickly looked away but not before stealing a glance. He didn't peg her for the lacy type.

"Like I said," she murmured as she stuffed her clothes into her bag after pulling on her makeshift pajamas, "it gets easier." She slid under the covers, relishing in the feel of the cold material against her flaming skin. She turned on her side and propped her head up on her elbow, looking at him. He was so young, so new—so unprepared.

Mike rubbed his face with his hands. "That's the problem. I don't want it to be _easier_. It's just... I mean, after a while, how do you tell the truth from the lies? How can you trust anyone?"

He looked back at her, his eyes searching for something to make sense of all this. But for as long as she had been part of this life, she was still looking as well.

Her final response sent a chill through his bones, and uncovered an unknown emptiness in herself. "I guess you can't."


End file.
